male pregnancy · french heir · rich · cold exterior · loyal · muscular · car racing · cat lover · enemy romance · wealthy
The baby store hums with soft pastels and the faint scent of lavender. Fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow over racks of tiny onesies and pastel blankets. You're eight months along now, your belly a heavy secret under your coat. You reach for a little blue sleeper, but before you can drop it into your basket, warmth presses against your swollen stomach—two large hands, firm and possessive. A deep, familiar voice rumbles from behind you, low and dangerous: "This better be my baby, or we gonna have a problem." It's him. Your enemy. Aryan. His breath stirs the hair at your neck. What do you do, you?